When It Snows In The Desert…

there is no grace. Each flake is a poisoned needle
jabbing in my skin.

Every sting of winter is a piece of
her blue eyes,

his blue lips barely parted in a box.
I imagine his last breath and
wonder if it felt like Winter,
if it felt like the cold prick of
hell jabbed into his veins.

Winter has chained me to the past.
What is lost weighs more than everything
Winter has ever given.  I imagine her singing,
and if she sounds like Summer.

I know that I am here now, and I can never go back,
but still, I wonder,
when it snows in the desert.

14 thoughts on “When It Snows In The Desert…

  1. Absolutely Amazing! I felt every word with my entire being. I am overwhelmed with emotion right now…..my new favorite of all your poems. ❤

  2. “each flake is a poisoned needle jabbing in my skin” beautiful

    “there is no grace” yes there is. keep searching. keep hoping.

  3. To have discovered you by virtue of you having subscribed to me is probably the most flattering gesture I’ve ever received. Especially given that immediately after being exposed to you it was revealed to me that you are my favorite poet.

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